


Baby, it’s cold Outside

by drollicpixie



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Too drunk to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:14:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21764359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drollicpixie/pseuds/drollicpixie
Summary: Ben is the sweet dork Rey crushes on and at Christmas, in the snow, maybe, anything can happen? Awkward love (and fucking) this way.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey
Comments: 8
Kudos: 169





	Baby, it’s cold Outside

Ben Solo may be the hardest lay of Rey’s life. And by that she means she has never had to work so hard for a dicking. It’s been months of flirting at work, stopping by his desk to say hi, “accidentally” bumping into him at the printer. But finally, she has him in her apartment. There to help her with a problem with her Wi-Fi. She had offered him a drink in return for the favor. 

Handing him said martini as she wets her full bottom lip, made plump and red with rarely used lipstick he looks comically surprised. Was he excepting a soda?

“Thank you,” he stumbles over the words, shoving thick dark framed glasses up his nose. He wears them for close work. He’s farsighted. She knows that about him. 

Rey knows a lot about Ben Solo. 

He is shy, quiet, reserved. He stumbles over his words, his feet, whenever she bats her eyelashes in his direction. 

His eyes are glued to her tits every time she wears that nearly sheer cream silk blouse. 

But when it comes to actually doing anything about it, about her, about her clearly wanting to blow him in the supply room, he can’t look at anything but his polished black shoes. Or his thick as fuck fingers. 

Rey bites her lip. Smiles. 

“It’s the least I can do. I really appreciate this, Ben.”

He coughs. 

He’s come over on a Saturday evening. In a snow storm. And all she had needed to do was text. 

Why hadn’t she tried something so simple before?

This was her night she had told Rose. By hell or high water she is going to ride Ben Solo like he is going out of style. She’s going to wrap her body around him, that swimmer’s V, those thick broad shoulders, convince him to spend the night, and fuck him again, sleepy and soft in the morning. 

Rey is going to keep Ben Solo. 

He just doesn’t know it yet. Doesn’t understand. 

Really, it’s adorable. 

“Wow,” Rey half hides her smile. Half doesn’t. “The snow is really coming down now.” She turns her gaze to him. “Did you drive here?”

Ben clears his throat. “Uh, I did.”

“Hmm,” she hums, a twinkle in her hazel eyes, “then we better keep an eye on the weather.”

* * *

She’s plies him with a second and a third drink before he agrees to just sit on the couch. Problem with her wifi signal resolved.

“Do you like Netflix?” Rey she asks. Of course he does. Everyone does. But does he want to get cozy is what she’s really interested in. 

“Uh, sure,” Ben replies, shoving his glasses up his nose again. If she weren’t already sopping the action would have made her cream her panties. Every time he does that simple hand motion in a meeting, Rey is forced to cross her legs and stifle a groan. 

He sits. A good two feet away. Nervous and twitchy. Back ramrod straight, his ass so close to the edge of the cushion Rey genuinely worries about him sliding off. 

“I don’t bite,” she smiles, front teeth tugging at her full lower lip. Her hand gently pats the cushion next to her. 

Rey watches Ben swallow. His Adam’s apple bobs and she imagines putting her mouth there. Sucking. And maybe going against her word. Dragging her teeth along the column of his throat, nipping her way down to his collarbone. He shifts closer. 

Her palm presses his chest applying gentle force and he shifts, his back touching the cushions awkwardly. 

“See,” Rey takes in his wide eyes with some internal triumph, “isn’t that comfier?”

Ben just stares. Then jolts to life, nervous, “Oh, yes. Thanks, Rey. It’s just,” he pushes up the sleeve of his delicious black cable knit sweater, the one pulled tight across his chest. And she just knows for all of his dorky persona he is hiding something incredible under there. Something mouth watering. 

“Just what, Ben?”

He looks to the window. The beige Ikea curtains still open, snow fluttering past against the dark night sky beyond. “It’s getting late and I should really pack up and get out of your hair.”

His cheeks are hot, pink. The tips of his ears, peeking adorably from his luscious black locks, longer now than when she met him, brushing his shoulders, are also tinged red. 

Rey huffs. Just as she is supposed to. She knows her role here. Ben is skittish. He just needs soothing. He needs guidance. A helping hand. And it’s a good thing she is here to provide it. 

At this, Rose would scoff, smirking. Eyes twinkling. 

And Finn would explode that she was out of her ever loving mind. 

“Ben, don’t be ridiculous. It’s practically a blizzard out there. And you’ve had three martinis. I don’t care how large you are,” and here she pauses to take him in, eyes raking that fine form, and smirks. He coughs. “I couldn’t possibly let you drive home right now.”

“Oh, um, I,” he stammers. “I don’t want to spoil your night. You must have had plans. Someone like you.”

“Someone like me,” Rey grins. 

“I mean,” and at this point, instead of shoving the glasses back up his long aquiline nose, the one she wants nudging her clit while he goes down on her like she’s his last meal, he tugs them off, vigorously rubbing his eyes. “Someone as popular,” he glances up at her shyly, “as beautiful as you.”

“Oh!” Well that just made her night. 

Rey could say more. Tell him that she’s really not all that popular. That she doesn’t even date much. Rarely takes interest in people physically. Sexually. That she’s been thirsting after him for months. Nearly ten to be exact. That she’s turned down rather explicit dates with other men at the office, men who would have happily fucked her without so much work, but that she couldn’t do that to him. Worried it might turn him off, scare him, if he heard. 

So she’s been waiting. Biding her time with only her hand. And that thick pink dildo she got off Amazon. Only half joking while only half drunk. 

And finally. Finally! It’s her moment. 

So instead of saying anything to Ben she grabs the cocktail shaker and starts up another batch of drinks. 

“You pick something!” she calls from the bar cart. “Put on whatever you would be watching at home if you hadn’t had to drag yourself over here in this storm to help me.”

“Oh, um,” she can’t help but love his stammering. Why does his shyness get her so hot? 

Probably because Rey is convinced that it conceals some animalistic side. Something wild and dangerous that he is so desperate to keep caged.

She wants to let that beast free

A few moments later when she returns, cocktail shaker in hand, she glances at her TV to see snow. Lots of snow. And a quaint little village. Something almost, or exactly, Scandinavian. 

“This storm wasn’t enough snow for you?” She smirks, pouring his glass even as he leans forward to stop her. “Shh, your my guest, Ben. At least let me ply you with alcohol to make up for everything.”

His eyes are locked on her tits again. Small but prominent, pushed up by her laciest, pale pink bra, loose black tank pulled low. She knows what he can see when she bends and leans forward. His pulse thrums along with her heart rate. 

“Unless you’d like something else,” she pulls her lower lip between her teeth, pausing directly in front of him, eyes wide and unassuming. Ben takes another great big audible swallow. “Scotch, perhaps?” She smiles, “You do look awfully parched”. 

“No,” he shakes his head, “no, please. This is, uh, just fine.”

“Great!” She drops back down beside him on the red couch, so close that their bodies are forced to lean into one another, and sips her own drink, decidedly tipsy. 

Ben quietly sips, clearly nervous. 

“So what are we watching?” Because Rey is still only seeing snow. And frosty tipped evergreens. 

And train tracks?

Finally. Finally! Ben smiles. And Rey feels her heart stutter in her chest. Those slightly crooked teeth, the lopsided casualness of his lips. The one small dimple. His eyes crinkle. And she thinks she could look at that happy, pleased face all day. All night. 

“It’s called Slow,” he tells her. “It’s a train ride from Bergen, Norway to Oslo. They mounted the camera to the front of the train. It’s amazing. I’ve been watching it for about four hours already but I went back a way for you. I thought this stretch was by far the most scenic..”

“Wait. Four hours? How long is the train ride?” Rey finds herself interrupting. 

“Over seven hours,” he enthuses. 

“Seven hours? Of this?” Rey can’t keep the surprise out of her voice. 

And it shows on Ben’s face. His crestfallen expression. 

“Oh god, this is so lame, isn’t it? I’m sorry.” And he reaches rapidly for the remote. 

Rey inhales, perhaps realizing, more than she may have known, how deeply Ben’s sense of shyness, his embarrassment, goes. She sees, for the first time, that it isn’t just a sweet quiet persona. Ben Solo is really just an awkward guy. He is genuinely uncomfortable. And she understands, he may honestly not see that she’s attracted to him. He hasn’t been playing hard to get. He hasn’t been ‘putting of the inevitable’ as Rose as theorized. Finn was correct. And it irks her. Solo is just a ‘socially awkward dude’ who has no clue how badly she wants to fuck him. Tuck him in. And bring him tea. And bake him scones. And keep him. Forever and ever. 

She breathes. Blinking. 

“No! I’m interested!” She tells him quickly, grabbing onto his wrist, wrapping her fingers around the boney protrusion there. “And I’m certainly not judging, Ben.” Rey decides to go to broke. “I mean, I’ve basically memorized every episode of Nova. I’ve watched each one so many times. And Ken Burn’s documentaries. I donate to PBS each month just so I can stream content. So yeah, this looks,” she smiles, genuinely, no guile, “great.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later they leave a small station, a gong strikes, and the train slips into a tunnel. So deep and dark that no light can been seen on the other end. And it goes on and on. 

Rey, in the dimness if the room, the lights already low, slips her hand onto Ben’s thigh. He coughs. She moves it higher, her pinky brushing his cock. 

It’s not hard. But it’s not soft either. 

It’s waiting. 

Patient. Attentive. 

And Rey feels her lips lift. 

She’s this side of drunk and if she can tell, so is Ben.

* * *

Five minutes later and the screen is still black but the lulling sound of the wheels on their tracks reminds her that the train is still moving, Netflix hasn’t broken down, the tv is still on. And her lips meet Ben’s skin for the first time. 

He gasps. 

Her tongue traces the column of his throat and she feels it as he gulps. Her lips latch onto his pulse. It’s an awkward angle. But he smells clean and sweet and tastes like something fresh with a pinch of salt. 

“Rey,” he groans, “I..”

Her teeth drag across his jugular and he breathes out jaggedly, stammers. “I think you’ve had too much to drink.”

“Mmm, have I?”

“I should probably get going now. The snow seems to have let up.” They both glance to the window which shows a near white out. “Uh, some?” It’s clear it hasn’t. 

“Ben,” he huffs. “Don’t you like me, Ben?” His hammering heart and rapid breathing are enough of an answer. “It’s so cold in my apartment, alone. Especially on nights like these.”

“When it’s snowing?”

“Mmm,” she hums, slipping one knee, a thigh, over his legs, and nestling herself onto his lap, his hardening cock so obvious when pressed up between her legs. 

“You’re um, missing the mountains, they’re really beautiful,” but he doesn’t get to finish his statement because Ben finds his lips otherwise occupied. Rey’s hips stuttering along with his exclamations of surprise, rocking against him, her hands wending into his hair. 

“We can watch it again tomorrow,” she breathes against his mouth. 

“Tomorrow,” he gasps, almost a question but not quite. 

“Yeah, in the morning.”

“Oh,” he groans, “oh god,” his massive palms, his thick fingers, gripping onto her hips, digging into her flesh there. Into her ass. 

He’s touching her. Finally. Rey nearly squeals with delight. With triumph.


End file.
